The Handsome Dark Lord[Comprehensive]

……

Green light flashed overhead, someone fell down in front of his eyes, he stood up staggeringly, and there seemed to be a man in a black cloak in front of him... The man stretched out a pale wand, his head swelled slightly Pained, he cried loudly, his voice was unbelievably immature.

Another green light flashed.

... Harry woke up with a start.

The scar throbbed slightly, making him break out in a cold sweat.

The sky outside the window was still gloomy. He seemed to have fallen asleep not long ago, but his spirit had already recovered a lot.

There were only two green lights left in the dream scene, but Harry knew what they were.

He hadn't had this dream for a long time.That fateful night when he was one year old left a deep mark in his mind, even though he was too young to have any memory, it was always imprinted on his soul in the form of dreams.

Harry stared silently at the ceiling, the murderer in his dream was sleeping beside him.He couldn't say that he didn't feel heartbroken. The months of getting along hadn't been fake, and the hatred for Voldemort hadn't happened overnight. The opposite ends pulled him, almost tore him apart.

But at the moment when the Shattering Curse was issued, the rationality that could not tolerate a grain of sand was defeated.

Broken, hopeless, but strong emotions dominate Harry.

He was ready to die at his hands.

But Voldemort leaned forward and kissed him.

Harry couldn't describe how he felt at that moment.His brain had probably been on strike since the time of the Pensieve, but he just wanted to follow his instinct and indulge in the familiar and intimate breath of the other party.

When distracted, he often forgets Voldemort's identity.

What is combined with him is just a fiery body, he can feel the temperature contained in it from the skin-to-skin touch, and not thinking about its meaning makes him feel extremely happy.

But Voldemort's iconic red eyes were also a constant reminder of who he was looking at.But the momentary sobriety in the climax was an aphrodisiac, and in the rebellious corners of Harry's heart, he was shudderingly excited by their horrific true identities.

It was his first taste of real sex/love, and he couldn't judge the feelings of ordinary people, but the experience last night really made him...fascinated.

If the astonishing object hadn't been lying beside him, Harry would have thought he was just living a ridiculous delusional dream.

But in fact, what he had was a conscience dream 15 years ago.

In just a few seconds after waking up, the content of the dream was almost forgotten.But the mere fact of dreaming about it was enough for Harry to feel ashamed of what had happened last night.

When he ran out of the principal's office, Harry never thought that things would develop to this point.

When he put down his wand, he just wanted to end this ridiculous thing.

The moment he regretted using the shatter spell, he was completely lost.

To kill, to cut, or even to do it - as long as the innocent are not harmed, he is willing to gamble and admit defeat.

He let himself loose on the bed, screaming and crying for the last time, kissing his favorite enemy, and just wanted to leave without regret when it was all over.

As long as Voldemort got what he wanted, life or death, there would be nothing between them.

He thought it was a farewell.

But Voldemort acted like they were just a normal couple.

Harry was almost dragged by the nose and pushed to sleep on the bed.He didn't even know if he really wanted to sleep...though his body answered him quickly.

But his dreams revealed mental torment.

He can ignore the persecution he has suffered, but how can he choose to ignore it for his relatives and friends?

But another fact that cannot be ignored is that if Voldemort just wanted sex/love, there was no point in keeping him overnight.

Harry wasn't sure at first whether the direction of his understanding was too whimsical, until... Voldemort hinted that Harry would stay and not return to kill Aberforth.

That insinuation...almost blatantly stated.

as if... as if...

Harry felt slightly sore, both eager and ashamed of the answer.

He sat up quietly and quickly glanced at the people around him.

It was still inconceivable to him to think of who he was in bed with, let alone that he was lying so peacefully, like a harmless human being.

But Harry couldn't go on sleeping with peace of mind.He reached out to touch his clothes, endured the pain in his bones and muscles, put on the clothes, took out his phone and checked the time.

Four in the morning.

Must go now.

While holding the phone, his train of thought was interrupted again.

It was astonishing to think about it now that Voldemort had given him this Muggle product; even more amazing than that was the fact that he kept using it to contact Harry.

Isn't the idea of ​​the Dark Lord... the cleansing of Muggle blood?

Harry clenched his phone tightly, doubts and guesses sprung up like mushrooms after a rain, and the answer to the question lay behind him, and he couldn't help but feel the urge to ask.

But he restrained himself and tiptoed out of bed.

The first thing to do was to get back to the headmaster's office, at least not to make Dumbledore worry about him.

"How do you think about explaining your departure?"

As Harry fumbled for his wand, he was suddenly startled by Voldemort's voice.

In the darkness, his red eyes looked a little darker, not so blood-like anymore, and precipitated like mellow wine.

Harry found himself not surprised, knowing subconsciously that there was no way he could hide his movements from him.

Harry was inexplicably relieved by his initiative to speak out.

"No," said Harry, "...but the Professor will worry if he doesn't go back."

Voldemort raised his head and looked at him, "You are really a loyal follower of Dumbledore."

Harry was silent for a while: "...I am." He looked into the red eyes, and there was no hostility in his eyes, but as if he was waiting for some trial, "Do you want to eradicate me now?"

"..." Voldemort got up and approached Harry oppressively, "If I had this plan, can you imagine how many lives I have to survive to this day?"

Harry's eyes flickered, and he shook his head slowly.

"I don't know...the reason why you didn't kill me."

There was a hint of irritation in Voldemort's voice, "And you know my /fuck/ your reason?"

Harry choked on the bluntness of his statement, but he managed to keep his head straight, "That—that's not going to stop you from killing people, is it!"

"Oh—so, this is your purpose." Voldemort regained his composure, "to prevent the Dark Lord from killing people."

"I'm not—" Harry instinctively denied, the fading heat in those red eyes made his heart throb—"I—"

Voldemort waited without saying a word.

Harry couldn't speak for a while.

That was indeed the most extravagant wish in his heart.

"...I'm sorry..." Harry lowered his head, not knowing why he apologized.

He is not wrong.he knows.

...but he felt he had screwed up something crucial.That thing...he cherishes it very much.

"I... have to go..." he said awkwardly, already picking up his wand.

Voldemort sighed silently, feeling that his temper might have been tempered too much in his previous Muggle identity.

"I saw your dream." He whispered.

Harry froze in place.

"You can't take much at once, Harry." Voldemort took his chin gently, making him look up at himself. "I hate to say this, but you killed me once."

Harry's eyes widened.

Voldemort narrowed his eyes slightly, in a very unhappy mood: "You better not remind me of this in the future... That diary three years ago contained a real piece of my soul, which can revive me—you killed him , just killed me."

Harry had indeed just learned about the Horcruxes from Dumbledore, and that the Diary was a Horcrux, but it had never occurred to him what that meant.

He killed Voldemort...

"Vengeance is paid, isn't it?" Voldemort stared at him, sneering coldly.

For some reason, Harry felt nothing but a bitterness of desolation.